Archan Nair – New Illustration titled “ Hue “
I feel lost and confused.
I feel dizzy and unsure.
My mind is pulled
in opposite directions.
What do I want?
I want to create.
Throw paint on a wall.
Write books.
Compose poetry.
I want to create.
SING ME A SONG
Sing me a song.
Write a melody
Of times gone by
And moments lost in time.
Stroke the keys.
Massage the ivories.
Raise your voice high
So I can hear your words.
Words of hope and loss.
Sing them loud and clear.
Stories of faraway places
And times that are gone.
I close my eyes.
I can hear your words.
I see your fingers
Stroking the keys.
The words take flight.
They reverberate through time.
They leave your lips
To land on mine.
A sweet melody
To soothe my advancing years.
A pretty song
To fill my empty heart.
Write your story.
Add the details.
Don’t forget your characters.
Leave no event untold.
Leave no rock unturned.
Write your book.
Your life story.
Write it in blood.
A perfect spot for me.
Books as far as you can see.
Covering the high walls.
Even lining the halls.
Stories for me to read.
Nothing more I would need.
Smouldering Heart of the Blues by ecstaticist on Flickr.
The blue sucks me in.
Velvet petals caress my face.
A buzzing bee whizzes past.
I’m inside the midnight blue darkness.
My head spins from its heady fragrance.
Lines of poetry beg to be written.
Will I yield to the blue darkness?
It’s a trap I cannot escape.
Write your story.
Add all the details.
Include all the people.
Leave no event untold.
Leave no rock unturned.
Write your book.
Your life story.
Write it in blood.
A closed door.
It can open to many things.
It can lead to a garden of flowers.
It can also lead to unspeakable horrors.
What are you in the mood for?
Do you want pretty flowers,
or do you want to explore the unknown?
The choice is yours.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
I’ve been dared to write a poem.
I sit here and I will show em
That I can write about bliss
But it will be hit or miss.
Happiness hasn’t been my friend.
On white wings heaven does not send.
I seek it every day.
A sneak of it I still pray
Will rain down upon me
Before I’m gone to sea.
Write your story.
Add all the details.
Include all the people.
Leave no event untold,.
Leave no rock unturned.
Write your book.
Your life story.
Letters written in blood.
This is why we write.
Why we put words down on paper.
Hoping someone will read them.
Enjoy them.
Be inspired by them.
We must keep writing.
Until we can’t hold the pen any longer.
And we lay our heads down for the last time.
